


A World Outside

by Tallihensia



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Mud, cuteness and saccharine, farm animals, mission interruptus, sweet stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:37:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tallihensia/pseuds/Tallihensia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An interlude during a mission where Napoleon and Illya encounter mud, lambs, and chicks while saving the world from Thrush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World Outside

**Author's Note:**

> For [MFUwss Easter Egg challenge 2016](http://mfuwss.livejournal.com/), for Renn who asked for “a gen egg involving lambs and chicks”. How could I resist? :)
> 
> [Crossposted on livejournal MFUwss.](http://mfuwss.livejournal.com/550260.html)

## A World Outside

They ran through the countryside, knowing their pursuers weren’t likely to be that far behind them.

A fence indicated some form of a boundary, yet out here there could be miles between fences and civilization. They exchanged a glance and then scrambled over it, continuing on. 

Eventually, Napoleon tripped. He was tired enough and the trip unexpected enough that the landing was as ungraceful as possible, going face first into the mud and barely getting a hand out in time to keep him from a broken nose. 

He sat up, mud dripping off every inch of him, and squinted up at his partner. Illya’s mouth curved up, but he didn’t say a word, merely reached a hand out to offer assistance getting up. 

Napoleon let his gaze drift from Illya to the tree line they’d left so long ago while running, yet was still too very close as the crow flew – or the Thrush pursued. 

“Mud,” Napoleon suddenly said.

“What?” Illya left his hand out, but had followed Napoleon’s gaze.

“They’ll be tracking us with infra-red. Heat sensors on those scopes of theirs. If we cover ourselves with mud, it will block their scans. If we don’t move, they’ll go right by us.”

Illya’s eyebrows snapped down as he thought about it for a moment. “Napoleon... why must you devise a plan that involves me getting dirty, when, for once, it is you who is covered with mud and not me?”

“Side benefit.” Napoleon grinned while finally reaching out to take Illya’s hand and getting to his feet. He glanced around. “There.” The whole area was mixed mud and grass right now after the rains of yesterday, but there was a depression with standing brown water in it that looked like it would do.

Under his breath, Illya sighed in resignation. Then they headed for it, making their way into the muddy ground. They both rolled to get maximum coverage, then sank as far as they could in and looked each other over.

“I hear mud packs do wonders for the complexion.” Napoleon reached out and patted some more mud over Illya’s hair where golden strands were showing. 

“You should be able to trade tales with the women at the spa the next time you join them.” Illya returned the favor before directing his gaze out again.

Tensely, they waited. A small helicopter, barely worth the name finally roared its way out of the trees, heading in their direction. The agents exchanged glances – they’d expected Thrush to be following them on foot, but this made sense too.

The copter moved slowly over the ground, swinging back and forth in a search pattern. They could see Thrushies hanging out the sides, rifles with the distinct red scopes pointing towards the ground. 

As it got closer, Napoleon and Illya held their breaths and sank further into the mud, closing their eyes and mouths so no white gleams could be seen, which could be as much of a tell as the heat sensors.

When the helicopter passed over, they rose up and watched it warily. It kept going and they relaxed somewhat. 

Getting out of the mud was a bit harder than going into it had been. However, they both made it eventually. Instinctively, each brushed at their clothing, even knowing it was a lost cause. Napoleon knelt down and splashed a little water on his face to get the worst of the mud off.

Beside him, there was a tug on his jacket. 

Illya chuckled. From further way than the tug. Obviously no danger, though. Napoleon looked over. 

“Well, hello little fellow...”

The little lamb looked up with big brown eyes, guilelessly looking at trust with him, even as the corner of his jacket hung out from its mouth.

Napoleon sighed. “You’re not a goat, you know.” It payed no attention to him. He glanced around. “Where’s your dam?”

“There are more sheep... sheep... what’s the plural of sheep? Over there.” Illya pointed to their left.

“Sheep.”

“I know that, what is the plural?”

“It’s both the singular and plural. And this little fellow,” Napoleon patted the cute curly fur as he stood up, “is a lamb.” The little fellow barely came up to his knee. So cute. 

With Napoleon’s full height reveled, the lamb backed up, looked him over, then came forward again, letting out the thinnest sounding ‘baaaa’ he’d ever heard.

“English,” Illya sighed over the language strangeness. He reached out carefully and touched the lamb. “Soft.”

Napoleon eyed his partner. “There are sheep all over England. You can’t go over a hill without tripping over them. Are you putting me on again?” Sometimes his partner liked to play up the ignorant foreigner, even with Napoleon. Sometimes, though, it really was something he’d missed in his education. Napoleon couldn’t always tell which it was.

Illya gave him a light grin that gave no answers and Napoleon was left wondering. 

Having no other direction, they headed for the other sheep. The lamb cavorted closely at Napoleon’s heels.

“It must be a female,” Illya remarked dryly, observing the devotion the little lamb showed.

“Very funny,” Napoleon replied. They got to the rest of the sheep and one of them detached itself from the flock and came over, giving a stronger ‘baaaa’ as it... she... saw her little lost lamb. 

“Reunited.” The two agents grinned at the scene and watched for a few moments.

“Napoleon,” Illya suddenly spoke his partner’s name in a tone that had Napoleon reaching for his long-lost gun. “The Thrush helicopter was heading that direction—”

Up here where the sheep were on the higher ground, a large red building could be seen on the other side.

“People.” Napoleon fixed his eyes on the barn and the darker splotch near it that was probably a house. The helicopter wasn’t in the air now, but if he squinted he thought he could see something like it near the house. “They probably thought we took refuge down there.”

Which wasn’t an unfounded thought, but they hadn’t made it there yet. The two agents grimly started another run towards danger. This time, though, they would be the pursuers. That gave them the advantage.

\---

“Thank you so much, again!” The shapely brunette in plaid directed them around the side of the barn. “There’s a faucet here you can wash yourselves off with. I’ll get you some dry clothes you can change in to.” Hurrying off, she left them alone. Napoleon watched her until she’d rounded the corner, admiring the authoritative gait the boots lent to the jeans’ clad calves and a fine view from this angle.

Illya snorted. “I notice she didn’t invite us inside the house to use the showers there.”

Napoleon reached over and tapped on his partner’s jacket, dislodging a clump of dried mud, which started a cascade of others. “Would you?”

“Not at all,” Ilya replied with a grin. “It is very practical of her.”

“So was the shotgun and frying pan.” 

The Thrush men were tied up and dumped in an unmucked stall. Illya had checked all the knots and Napoleon had scouted the stall to make sure they couldn’t get out. A phone call had made up for the loss of their communicators and UNCLE was on its way to pick both them and the prisoners up.

Taking his jacket off, Napoleon hung it over a pole. No point to getting it wet and muddy again. UNCLE logistics would have a time getting the various picks and explosives out of it, but they’d had worse. At least this was just mud. 

Illya stepped up to the pump and Napoleon moved under the water to rinse off as much as he could. After he was done, Illya took his turn.

Sally came back just as Illya finished up. She stood there, her mouth open, as she took in the sight of a wet Illya with a wet thin white shirt clinging to his body. 

Napoleon couldn’t repress a chuckle. Women liked him... but there were definitely times when their attention went the other way. At least until his partner opened his mouth. 

Illya shot him a sour glance before turning his attention to the farm girl. “Are those for us?”

She cleared her throat but didn’t move her eyes. “Yes. They might not fit that well, but...”

“Better than what we have now,” Napoleon stepped up smoothly and took the bundles from her, handing one set to Illya. Both he and Illya were average sizes – himself more in the middle of average and Illya slightly on the shorter end. They occasionally got teasing from it among agents who were more physically imposing, but it also meant that he and his partner very rarely had any trouble in the field getting clothing, borrowed or stolen or appropriated as needed. The behemoths didn’t get chosen for undercover work often.

“You can change over here.” Sally finally pulled her eyes away, and spared an appreciative glance at Napoleon as well, which he returned with an easy grin.

Instead of a stall, she led them to a part of the barn walled off with a door. Opening it, she motioned them to follow her in quickly.

The small room was deliciously warm and slightly humid with red lights above, the hum of steam in pipes along the wall, and there were little peeping sounds within. The sound was really nothing like their communicators, but both Napoleon and Illya involuntarily reached for their non-existent pockets before they sheepishly let their hands fall as they looked around.

There were several small wooden tables with large drawers inset in them against the far wall, and on the ground...

“Oh,” Illya walked over and knelt down, his attention all for the little yellow baby chickens inside the pen.

The little fluff balls ambled around, peeping – an extraordinarily loud sound for things so small. They fluffed out their little downy wings as they moved, scraping at the ground with their tiny feet.

With a smile, Sally reached over the pen wall that was just high enough to keep the chicks in and picked up one of them. She held it out to Illya.

Illya’s eyes widened briefly and then he carefully took it from her and brought the chick back close to his chest. It was smaller than his hands, engulfed in his careful hold.

“After they’re hatched in the incubators,” Sally nodded at the wooden tables, “the baby chicks have to be kept warm for another few weeks before they can be let outside.” She retreated to the door. “After you’ve changed, I can open up one of them if you want – we’ve got eggs hatching pretty much every hour right now, so there should be something to watch.”

There was no answer from his silent partner, but Napoleon could tell the idea interested him, so he replied for them, “That would be fascinating. Yes, please. Just give us a few minutes.”

With a smile, Sally went out, pulling the door shut behind her.

Illya brought the chick up to his face, holding it close for a moment. “So soft...” It was similar to his remark about the lamb earlier, but even more tender.

Napoleon looked away and started sucking his clothes, drying himself off with the towel the farm girl had thoughtfully provided, before putting on the borrowed jeans and shirt. They fit him well enough, though would be slightly large on Illya. “I thought you grew up on a farm.”

Reluctantly, Illya put the chick back in the pen before he reached for the towel in his turn. “No chickens. At least not that I remember. There might have been some before. We had a cow. I remember the cow.” He pulled on the jeans thoughtfully. “Third... no, fourth set of soldiers through got the cow. No, third. I remember my cousin taking me and the cow into the woods to hide the time before. I didn’t know why we were doing it then and it just seemed like a grand adventure, the three of us on a mysterious quest before we came back hours later. Hindsight and memories don’t always connect quite the same.”

Napoleon swallowed and carefully controlled any other reaction. His partner talked so very rarely about his past that it was always a bit of a shock when he did, particularly when the memories were so personal and mixed. 

Before they went anywhere with it, there was a knock at the door.

When they replied, Sally came in and showed them the wonders of the incubators where they watched a few chicks struggling out of their eggs. 

“Such hard work,” Napoleon remarked, “such determination.” He rather admired the little babies. No help, just them and a solid egg, and a world to get to outside of it.

“It’s one of the best parts about living on a farm.” Sally watched alongside the two agents, not showing any boredom at seeing again something she’d probably seen a thousand times before. 

They stayed there for awhile longer, until the UNCLE helicopter arrived. There was a world for them to struggle against outside... but for just this moment of time, it was good to have the peace, along with the lambs and chicks. They could take the memory of it back with them when they left

* * *

END

**Author's Note:**

> Vintage Incubators: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.451559868263676.1073741905.365743116845352&type=3
> 
> Baby chicks chirping:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xgr9doY34-I
> 
> MFU ringtone: ^^  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahM-ehsDVBA
> 
> Chick hatching video:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHLH91zzsXQ
> 
> I think it was mostly accidental, but... Napoleon and Illya? ;D  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-ZX8Uc9sws


End file.
